Oblivion
by Demented Clown
Summary: Oneshot involving the Scarecrow and the Riddler (not in a romantic way though. Sorry shippers.) Warning: contains themes of suicide and reference to self harm.


**Warning: Contains mention of suicide and self harm. **

**Disclaimer: Jonathan Crane and Edward Nygma are property of DC comics. **

**A/N: If this offends anyone in any way, please let me know. I know suicide is a tender subject for some. I am not encouraging self harm or suicide in any way. **

* * *

"What in God's name happened to your arms Jon?"

Jonathan looked up from the vial of toxin he had been working on, his brilliant blue eyes meeting the emerald ones of Edward Nygma.

"I was testing something," he mumbled, going back to his work. "Accelerated healing. Wanted to see if it worked."

Eddie frowned down at the incisions littering the other man's forearms. "Well it didn't."

"Yes Edward, _obviously._" Jonathan sighed, rolling his sleeves down. "Don't you have trophies to be hiding or some other nonsense?"

He sniffed reproachfully. "It's not nonsense. I've really got Batman stumped this time!"

"Hm," he muttered, not really listening anymore. Eddie went on about his latest scheme while Jonathan retreated into his own mind. He had to be more careful next time. Nygma would give him all kinds of hell if he found out. He'd never hear the end of it. He drummed his fingers against the cold metal table absently, frowning at the cloudy white liquid.

"Are you even listening to me?" Eddie snapped suddenly.

Jonathan started, glancing up at him. "Sorry," he offered. "What were you saying?"

He scowled. "Why bother? You're just going to tune me out again."

Jonathan turned so that he was facing Eddie. "You've got my full attention, if you want it."

Edward raised his eyebrows. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, why?"

"Well, you never _offer _to listen to me." He looked suspiciously at his friend, crossing his arms. "You never listen to me at all actually. And you certainly don't stop working to talk to me."

He shrugged. "Are you complaining?"

"...Well, no. But the fact that I'm not is a bit surprising. And the fact that _you're _not is even more shocking." He glared at Jonathan. "Are you a robot? I wouldn't put it past you to get a robot to do your work for you."

"Oh, just shut up before I gas you."

Eddie beamed. "That's better. That's good old Jon." He skipped off, twirling his green hat on his index finger.

Jonathan sighed. Well at least he was happy. It was probably best that way.

* * *

Jonathan waited until he was absolutely sure Eddie was asleep before sneaking off to his lab. He didn't want anyone to disturb him until he was done. He didn't bother locking the door, he assumed it wouldn't be long.

_Should I leave him something? _He thought. _A note maybe? _He decided against it, thinking it would be easier for him if there wasn't an explanation to write. But Eddie...

_No. _He didn't give a damn what Eddie thought. He was smart enough, he'd figure out something that worked for him. He'd be fine.

Jonathan fumbled in one of the drawers at his worktable. "Where is it?" he muttered. He finally found what he was looking for and withdrew a small pistol. He looked to see if it was loaded even though he'd checked time and again. Jonathan wasn't one for being unprepared.

He could feel himself shaking a bit and he gritted his teeth, scanning the room again to make sure he was alone. He pressed the barrel of the gun against his forehead gingerly, his heart pounding. He was... afraid. Yes, that was it. He was terrified. He let out a shaky laugh, remembering one of his favorite sayings. _At the end of fear... oblivion._

He adjusted the barrel, pushing it against his skull. "Sorry Ed," he murmured, squeezing his eyes shut.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

Jonathan whirled around, almost dropping the gun. "Eddie?" he choked out.

The ginger haired man was standing in the doorway, a look of pure fury on his face. "You bastard! What kind of imbecile _are_ you?"

"I'm not-"

"You do not get to _kill yourself!_" he spat, storming over to where Jonathan was standing. He snatched the pistol out of his hand. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

_Besides the obvious? _Jonathan thought, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I didn't think-"

"No, you didn't, did you. You didn't take the time to think about what you were doing."

"I thought about it plenty," he whispered, glaring down at his feet.

"Why?"

He looked up. "What?"

"You heard me, _why? _Explain this to me Jon, because this is one thing I don't understand. I mean, you're not depressed, you're not suicidal and you're certainly not an _idiot. _So why do _this_?"

"I don't fucking know!" he shouted. "It's not like I matter, and I don't exactly want to exist so I thought 'Why the hell not?' I've got nothing to lose."

"Nothing to lose? What about everything you've ever worked for? What about your toxin, what about _me?_"

"What _about _you?"

"You don't think I'd care if you offed yourself?" he asked, looking slightly hurt.

"It's none of your concern what I do."

Eddie looked around. "You weren't even going to leave a note?" he murmured.

"I-it was easier for me not to..."

Eddie's bright green eyes widened before he clenched his hand in a fist and punched Jonathan in the jaw. "You are an inconsiderate _ass _who doesn't care about anything besides yourself!" he spat, pushing him back into the table.

"Calm down Ed-"

"Don't tell me to _calm down! _I will not _calm down!_" he shouted, swinging his arm at him again.

Jonathan caught his wrist in his hand and shoved him away. "Edward Nygma, I've never seen you so worked up in your life, now will you _calmthefuckdown!" _

He looked up then and Jonathan could see that he was beginning to cry. "I will calm down when I'm sure you won't blow your fucking brains out." He sniffed a bit, wiping his eyes roughly.

"Leave me alone."

"No!"

"Eddie, please…"

Eddie grabbed the gun and emptied it before throwing it at some crates. He shoved the bullets into his pocket. "So is that what you do all day? Slit your wrists and think about _killing yourself?"_

"No, it's not. I _was_ testing something to affect the rate of healing and then I didn't exactly… stop."

"_Do you know how stupid and self destructive that is? What the hell were you even **thinking**?_" Edward shouted.

"Just get away from me! I won't do it, alright? I just… need to be alone."

He looked at Jonathan skeptically. He held out his hand, palm up. "There's a knife in your right pocket. Give it to me."

"Ed, I'm a grown man."

"A grown man who just tried to shoot himself. Knife. Now."

"You're never going to let me live this down, are you?" he muttered, digging the knife out of his pocket and tossing it to Nygma. "There. Happy?"

"Not really." He glanced at Jonathan sadly. "You sure you're all right?"

"I'll be fine. Now go away."

He sighed and turned to leave, closing the door halfway.

As soon as he was far enough away, Jonathan whirled around and slammed his fist into the wall. He faintly felt three of his fingers break, but he didn't really care. He hit the wall again and again, his hand searing with pain.

He finally stopped, crumpling on the floor, shaking.

"Damn it, Nygma, why couldn't you just _let me die_?"


End file.
